


Rainy Days

by JJJ



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Punk, Angst, F/M, Human Meg, M/M, Multi, Punk Star Dean, Rock Star Dean, human cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1386382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJ/pseuds/JJJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was the consummate punk rock star. Punk that made Green Day stutter.  He knew how to rev the crowd into a frenzy without breaking a sweat. Light brown hair, brilliant green eyes, tight black t-shirt, even tighter ripped jeans, a matching black leather cuff on his left wrist, and a give ‘em hell attitude. What more did he need?</p><p>Dean looked at her as she danced in the front row throughout the show. Slim build, various shades of blue streaked her shoulder-length hair. Fishnets – check.  Doc Martens – check. That’ll do nicely, he thought. </p><p>Catching his breath at the end of his encore, he turned and smiled directly at her, that slow, wry smile that could knock the panties off anyone; male, female, prefer not to answer – all of ‘em. She was so embarrassed that she could just about manage to smile back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this is my first fic ever and I mean ever. This isn't beta'd. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. While I do appreciate constructive criticism, harsh words force me to curl into a fetal position and scare my family.
> 
> This is an alternate universe where Dean is a punk rock star, Cas is a painter, and Meg is Cas' girlfriend.
> 
> Not sure exactly how many chapters this will run, but if you stick with me for the ride I promise it will be worth it.
> 
> While the overall fic is rated as explicit, not all chapters are.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read!

Dean Winchester was the consummate punk rock star. Punk that made Green Day stutter. He knew how to rev the crowd into a frenzy without breaking a sweat. Light brown hair, brilliant green eyes, tight black t-shirt, even tighter ripped jeans, a matching black leather cuff on his left wrist, and a give ‘em hell attitude. What more did he need?

Dean looked at her as she danced in the front row throughout the show. Slim build, various shades of blue streaked her shoulder-length hair. Fishnets – check. Doc Martens – check. That’ll do nicely, he thought. 

Catching his breath at the end of his encore, he turned and smiled directly at her, that slow, wry smile that could knock the panties off anyone; male, female, prefer not to answer – all of ‘em. She was so embarrassed that she could just about manage to smile back. 

He gave a hand signal to someone in the wings and then pointed at her. Next thing she knew, a backstage pass was pressed into her hands. She looked up and Dean smiled that smile again and cocked his head to the right mouthing, “come on.” He exited the stage amongst screams and cheers.

She immediately waded her way through the crowd of screaming fans and showed her pass to security. They showed her the way to his dressing room. She lightly tapped on the door. Dean opened it slightly and peered cautiously outside. When he recognized her, he smiled that ear to ear grin.

"Great! Come on in," he said and shut the door behind her. "Have a seat," he said and pulled a chair over to the coffee table and gestured for her to sit on the chair across from the one he turned around, sat down and straddled.

“Sure, um, wow…” she said softly, not fully grasping the concept of what was happening.

"I'm kind of confused about why I'm here. Don’t get me wrong – I’m grateful as all fuck, but why me?" she asked nervously, barely able to maintain eye contact with him. He leaned over and rested his chin on his arms which were crossed on top of the back of the chair. 

"Well, I remembered you from the signing I did last month. I wanted to talk to you then, but you left."

Dean had done a CD signing at a major music outlet a month earlier. She had brought a magazine with a beautiful painting of Dean on the cover for him to sign. The painting was beautiful. It was a closeup of Dean, his face turned three quarters towards the viewer. The colors were muted except for his eyes, which were shimmering. It was painted by a well-known artist named Castiel Novak, who also happened to be Dean’s best friend.

She was really curious about the painting and wanted to know where she could see it; was it in a gallery? A museum? A sanitarium??

"Oh, well I was kinda rushed out of there, actually. It was the first time I was able to ever get autographs from you. It just went so quickly," she rambled as the gravity of what Dean had just said to her settled. "Wait a minute! You remember me??"

"Of course I do. You had me sign the Interview magazine with the painting of me on the cover."

"Oh my god. Wow." She had no idea what to say at this point. Just the fact that her idol remembered her from a crowd of hundreds.

"Well, I need your address. You see, I wanted to send you the original of that painting," he smiled and got up to the refrigerator. "I'm sorry, can I get you something to drink?"  
"Hold on a second, I'm reeling here. Why would you give me that?"

"Because I thought you might like it," he shrugged, "If you don't want it, that's okay, but it's just that you were asking me questions about it and I thought..."

"Oh, no! Of course I would love it! It's just that I thought that you would prefer to hold onto something like that or at least give it to someone that you knew." He came over and sat on the coffee table swigging a beer and offered her one as well.

"I want to know you," he shrugged, "But so far you haven't even told me your name."

"Oh, god. I didn't realize. My name is Rain. And I am nervous as hell. Very nice to meet you," she said and extended her hand. He shook it firmly and smiled.

"That’s a very unusual name. I'm sure you hear that a lot, though."

"Not from anyone that matters,” she said as she began to fiddle with a strand of dark brown hair that had fallen in her eyes. "Let me write down my address for you so you can send the painting to me, that is if the offer still stands," she giggled nervously.

"Of course it does. " She scribbled it down for him, desperately trying to maintain control. He gently took it from her trembling hand. He read it out loud, "Rain Whitney. New York City? Have you lived here long?"

"Unfortunately for 10 years," she laughed. He smiled that same smile from before, making her even more nervous. He moved in closer and gazed into her light brown eyes. He enjoyed the sound of her voice. He enjoyed the way her mouth turned when she smiled.

Rain felt a wave of discomfort – fear that Dean would think she’s a groupie loser if she continued to sit there and stare at him. Plan of attack – um…leave!

"Well, I think I have overstayed my welcome..." she began and stood up. He rose as well.

"No, don't go yet," he said a little too quickly, "Um, are you busy right now?" /What are you doing, Dean, you don't know this woman./ "I thought maybe if you were available tonight, you could attend the after show party with me." She looked at his green eyes. So big, vibrant.

"Um, are you sure you want me to go with you?”

He looked confused.

“Why wouldn’t I? Man, I can’t wait to show you off, baby!” he smiled.

Wow, ok, well then I would love to go," she laughed. He took her hand in his.

"Great! It's happening right now, actually. If you would just give me two minutes to get ready, we'll be on our way. There's a car waiting outside already."

"Sure. Where is the party?"

"At a hotel, the Palace. We reserved one of the banquet halls," he said as he put on his leather jacket and briefly fixed his spiky hair. "Do you need anything before we go?"

"No, just a valium and someone to pinch me to convince me that this is really happening."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Rain arrive at the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an INCREDIBLY short chapter, but I'll be posting the next chapter either later on tonight or tomorrow. 
> 
> I have a very good reason. An amazing human being named Darklilcorner gave me most excellent writing tips that I'm applying to the chapters I've already written, so they're getting fleshed out a hell of a lot more.
> 
> Thank you, Darklilcorner! And thank all of you for actually READING this and giving me kudos! Who woulda thunk??

Dean and Rain sat in the nondescript black SUV as it quickly wove its way through New York City traffic. Within minutes they arrived. As the driver opened the door, Rain felt as if she were Dorothy opening the door to her home when she landed on Oz.

Flashes, shouts, catcalls, arms frantically reaching out from behind barriers on either side of the Palace Hotel’s main entrance. 

“Definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Rain muttered under her breath.

Dean understood the shell shock and leaned over and said into Rain’s ear, “We’re in a fish tank, baby. Let them get an eyeful.” 

His breath whooshed against her ear, sending a jolt through her entire nervous system. She turned to face him and gave a wry smile.

“Them? Or you?”

He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing just a bit harder than necessary. “That’s my girl. It’s a crazy fucking world. And I’m all for crazy with a slice of apple pie, you know?” 

“I hear you. But speaking of crazy, why are we just sitting here with the door open?”

Dean looked out of the door briefly. “I think we’ve teased them enough. Let’s get the fuck out of here and get into that party so I can ply you with some alcohol.” And then continue the party in my room. Without the benefit of cameras. Or maybe with, if she’s so inclined, he thought with a smile.

Rain threw her head back and laughed. A sound Dean thought he could get used to very easily. And then instantly began to wonder about what other sounds he could get out of her as well. Which shouldn’t be much of a problem if he’s reading her the right way. 

“Just wait here and count to five. Then come out,” he instructed. “Trust me.”

Dean stepped out of the SUV and nonchalantly adjusted his leather wrist band, throwing a bored, apathetic punk rock god expression. A few seconds later, a fishnet-clad leg swung out. Then another. The energy from the crowd shifted as Rain emerged from the SUV, taking Dean’s outstretched hand.

He pulled her in against him roughly. She was close enough that he could feel her tits mash up against his chest. 

The crowd began to rev, cheering, shouting, “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” 

He looked down into her brown eyes and drowned out the raving lunatics. Rain looked back up at him, quite unable to drown out said raving lunatics.

I’ll give them a show. ALL of them, he thought. Anger started to creep into him, extending through his hands as his right hand roughly reached down and squeezed Rain’s ass, his left hand cupping the back of Rain’s head and slamming their mouths together, his tongue forcefully invading her.

He didn’t take note of Rain’s body stiffening. Or that she wasn’t kissing him back with nearly the amount of gusto he was showing her.

Cameras were flashing to the point where it seemed as if someone told the sun to come on out and help light the situation.

To Dean, it was intoxicating as all hell.

To Rain? Well she had a simple question to ask Dean when they get inside the party.

How's he gonna explain this to his majorly famous supermodel girlfriend of the past 5 years?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're still with me?? Well this ride is just getting started, I hope you'll be with me for the long haul! THANK YOU for being so amazing!!!

Who would’ve thought the Palace could take a banquet hall and make it look like a dirty toilet stall? Rain looked all around her and was astounded at the efforts made to make an uppercrust(y) banquet hall look like Webster Hall. Why the hell didn’t they just rent Webster Hall? she wondered.

The room was dark; black linens on everything, black lights, people in black clothes, black, black, black, loud, loud, loud. Dean’s growls booming over the speakers.

Dean led Rain through the threshold and made a beeline for the bar, dragging Rain unceremoniously behind him.

“Whoa, boy, slow down!” she shouted over the din of the speakers and crowd. He either didn’t hear her or didn’t care. She waited until they passed underneath a strobe light so that she could at least see what she was doing.

“Dean!” she shouted and abruptly stopped, causing him to jerk forward.

He turned around and looked down at her, confusion emanating off of her in waves. “Dean, you wanna tell me what that was about back there in front of the paparazzi?”

Dean sighed and pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger, as if a migraine were settling in.

Rain crossed her arms, eyes shooting laser beams into his skull. Which was probably why he was feeling an impending migraine. If she had it her way.

“Look, don’t get me wrong here. It’s not like I haven’t fantasized about doing much, much more than that with you. But that’s just what it was – fantasy. I’ve got both my feet firmly planted on the ground here and know that there’s no way in a million years you’d dump a supermodel babe like Lisa Braeden for a nobody punk chick like me. Especially when you’ve been with her for like what, five years??”

Dean narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, mirroring Rain’s stance.

“What makes you think I’m dumping her?”

He didn’t just say that. Did he? He did. Wow. 

Just when it couldn’t get darker in the room, a shadow crept up behind Dean. A very tall shadow. As the figure went under the light just above Dean’s head, it became evident that Dean’s brother Sam was also at the party.

"Where have you been, man?" Sam shouted as he slammed his large hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean whirled around in surprise.

“DUDE! When the fuck did you get here?” Dean said, a huge grin immediately eradicating the bitchiness he was trying to send telepathically to Rain.

“Been waiting here for you ever since the show let out!” the sandy brown-haired giant responded.

“No, I mean here, in New York! Weren’t you in the boonies somewhere on a case?”

“I was doing some PI work for a jealous soccer mom out in Lawrence, Kansas. Turns out she was right – her husband is definitely banging his way across country, including here in the Big Apple. Lucky for you,” Sam laughed and gave his big brother (who was evidently not the big brother in terms of stature) a bear hug. 

Sam then gulped down his 6th or 7th shot of whatever. 

“You gonna introduce me to this?” Sam asked, pointing with his chin towards a very unamused blue-haired woman.

Dean coughed, turned around, and gave Rain a wink. Which again, did not amuse her or her blue hair.

“Sam, this is Rain. Rain, this is my baby brother, Sam.” 

Rain uncrossed her arms to shake hands with the younger Winchester. 

“Nice to meet you, Rain,” Sam smiled. 

“Same here, dude,” Rain said and then turned on her sweetest smile. “Look, Sam, I’m really sorry if I’m about to sound like the rudest bitch on the planet, but I have to square something away with Dean here. Are you gonna be around for a bit? You can have a drink with us when I’m through ripping him his new asshole.” 

The brothers stared at her, mouths agape. When it came to Dean, most chicks were into hero worship. Not asshole-ripping. Since when did the punk king become just a punk?

“Um, yeah?” Sam said, not entirely sure of what just transpired.

“Great. Now I’m going to take your brother somewhere nice and quiet so we can set some things straight, and then he’ll be available to bond with you over some zombie shots. Deal?”

Sam looked over at Dean for his ok, but all he saw was Dean staring in awe at this woman. This woman who apparently doesn’t give two shits that the toes she’s stepping on belong to Dean Fucking Winchester. 

Rain looked from Sam over to Dean.

“Tell him it’s ok, Dean.”

Dean turned to his brother and shrugged.

“Um, dude, I’ll catch up with you in a few, ok?”

“Sure, bro. Sure. Alrighty then – I’ll catch up with you two later. I’ll run damage control for you, dude.”

“What does that mean?” Rain asked.

Dean crossed his arms again and sighed.

“Those idiots out front? The ones with the little flashy things that take pictures? Yeah, well if you haven’t noticed, they’re in here now too? And when they see me leaving this room with you,” he shoved his pointer finger in her arm, “it’s gonna be even more fun for them than the little demo we gave them out front. Sammy here is gonna keep them busy and make up some shit to get them off our case for a little while. He does that for me.” 

Sam straightened himself up with pride to his full height of what appeared to be about eleven feet tall at his brother’s acknowledgement.

Rain’s dander was definitely going up.

“Oh, so he does that for you whenever you have a mindless fuck lined up?”

A look of complete confusion washed across Dean’s face.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Now I think YOU need a new asshole torn. Let’s get the fuck out of here and set this shit straight now, please!” 

He grabbed her arm and the two of them haughtily stormed out of the room, flashes following their every step.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter which gives some backstory to Dean's and Lisa's relationship and when Dean first saw Rain. Thank you all for reading, I am so happy you're still with me!!

Rain and Dean walked with determination. Aimlessly. The noise of the party got further and further behind them, but with no clear destination in mind, the idiots with the cameras continued to follow them everywhere.

Dean grabbed Rain’s arm and came to an abrupt stop, causing her to falter, reminiscent of the move she pulled minutes earlier on him. 

“Dude, what the hell?” she grit out as she caught her balance.

“Question for ya, sweetheart. Do you have somewhere particular in mind? Where the hell are we going?”

“Anywhere but in front of the fucking cameras!”

“Well there’s only one place for that. My room.”

“You’re staying here?” 

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yup. My label decided it’s less of a ‘liability’ to have me stay where the party is, so I don’t have to travel so much. And cause ‘issues’.” He used airquotes around ‘liability’ and ‘issues.’

“Well I can see why they’d want to be so cautious,” she snorted. “Yeah, let’s go to your room. To TALK. Because what we have here…”

“…is a falure to communicate,” Dean finished with a big goofy grin, rather proud of himself. 

“I was gonna say ‘shitshow’ but that works too.”

Dean rolled his eyes yet again. He’s known the woman for all of maybe an hour and was ready to throttle her. And not in a fun grab a smoke afterwards kind of way.

But the sparks she was throwing Dean was more than up to the game of catching. She’s definitely keeping it interesting.

He grabbed his cell and called Sam.

“Dude, do me a favor. Rain and I are going to my room..To TALK, Sammy, cut the shit…yeah….Uh huh…I’ll check in with you in a bit when we’re ready for drinks, ‘kay? Thanks, man.”

Sam would make sure no paparazzi or other unwanted assholes made their way to Dean’s floor. The chances of that happening were slim anyhow, considering you needed a card key in the elevator to get to Dean’s particular floor, but that’s not enough to deter a cash-wielding groupie or reporter.

He put his cell away and gently took her hand.

“We’re good for now. Let’s go up and chat.” 

They arrived at his room in short order. It was not exactly what you’d expect a punk star to be staying in; a massive living area with sectionals, a flat screen tv, a kitchenette…the bathroom was bigger than her apartment, Rain figured. 

Dean walked ahead of Rain and turned around, a look of embarrassment and apology on his face.

“Look, don’t tell anyone, ‘kay? The label put me in this shithole. I’d rather stay in a dive motel but they feel this NEED to do this shit.”  
Rain smirked.

“I know, you have to completely loathe and detest this first class room service, clean linens, Olympic-sized pool Jacuzzi…”

Dean’s face reddened slightly and he crossed his arms.

“You think you know so much, don’t you.”

“Well, I do know that you’ve got no clue about a lot of things, Winchester,” she said as she walked past him and proceeded to raid the mini bar.

“Hey!” he protested.

“Hey what? Like you have to pay for it? Please.” She grabbed a couple of Johnny Walkers, handed one to Dean, and planted herself on the sectional.

Dean looked at her in disbelief. What the fuck did I just get myself into, he wondered. 

“Ya gonna stand there or are we gonna talk?”

He rolled his eyes for the third time this evening, muttered something about devils with blue hair, and sat down on the opposite end of the ten mile long sectional. He took a swig of the Johnny Walker and turned to face her.

Her blue streaked hair fell into her left eye and he needed to restrain himself from the temptation of pushing it behind her ear.

“Seems like we both got something to say here, so why don’t you go first?” Dean suggested.

“Sounds like a plan.” Rain took a deep breath. He made eye contact with her and she almost lost her nerve. His green eyes were probably going to be the death of her. But she steeled herself, took another deep breath.

“I basically have two questions. One, what the fuck am I doing here with you? And two, what the fuck are you doing here with me?”

“Aren’t those pretty much both the same question?”

“No. The first question is more directed towards me and asking myself why I let myself get sucked into this. The second question is directed towards you and is asking you why you brought me here, why did you kiss me, and what do you think you’re getting from me, ESPECIALLY knowing you’re involved with someone for the past five years.”

“How come the question for me is so much longer than the question for you?”

“Not the point, Winchester!”

He sighed and looked down at the liquor in his hand. He turned his head to the side and looked at her. The day he did the CD signing was memorable for him in more ways than one.

One month earlier, New York

That morning had begun as ordinary as any other. He woke up in his hotel room, alone, got ready for the signing and was driven there by his label-appointed driver, Gabe.

Several backdoor entrances and stairways later, he’s sitting at the table, stacks of CDs and photographs waiting to be signed before him. This was merch that was going to go on sale after the signing; for those who couldn’t make the in-person signing but still wanted an autograph. The several blocks long line outside wasn’t going to be let in for another two hours yet. 

Dean looked around the table at the stacks. He sighed, grabbed a sharpie, and began the monotonous task of signing DW on everything.

He didn’t really mind doing it, per se, it was mind-numbing and brainless and was a good ‘break’ from running all over stage for 2 hours every night. But, it was mind-numbing and brainless. Can’t get around that.

As he set to work, his cell rang. It was his housekeeper, Marion, an older, overweight woman who had a rather unhealthy obsession with fairies. She was calling him from his landline at his home in London, England. This can’t be good, he moaned inwardly.

Dean’s girlfriend, the supermodel aka Lisa Braeden had always dreamt of living on the other side of the pond. Dean was adamant that he was not leaving New York City. However, when Dean’s best friend, the painter Castiel decided to give the art scene in London a try, well, within a month they’d bought a home and settled in quite nicely to tea and crumpets.

He took a deep breath and answered.

“Hey, Marion, how’s the hottest housekeeper in the UK doing?”

His outrageous flirt is usually met with a bunch of tittering and a, “Dean, you could charm the panties off a nun!” remark. Not this time. There was an uncomfortable silence.  
“Marion? You okay?”

She cleared her throat and fumbled around her words for a moment.

“Marion, I’m really busy here, if there’s an emer-“

“Lisa’s gone, Dean,” she blurted out in her Cockney accent.

“Gone, what do you mean gone? Maybe she had a shoot that came up suddenly. That doesn’t mean she’s gone, you know that.”

“No, Dean, no. There’s a note. I shouldna read it, but I did, I’m so sorry.”

A coldness began to settle into his gut. The ice grew from his gut and reached out through his nervous system into his extremities.

“Dean?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. 

“What’s it say, Marion?”

“You want me to read it to you? I don’t think it’s a good idea, maybe you should just read it when you get ba-”

His voice dropped a couple of octaves. “Read it now, Marion.”

Marion stammered several times, took a deep breath, and began to read.

“Dean, you’re in New York as I write this. The fight you and I had last night made me think really hard about a lot of things. I’m not ready to share you, Dean. The dream of moving here and having a life with you has been a waste of my time. It’s either him or me. And since I already know the answer to that, I spared you the trouble of having to brew it over. When you get back, I’ll have been long gone. 

I’m done. We’re done. I know the first thing you’re going to do is call me, beg me to come back. It’s not going to happen. Just leave me alone and let me go on with my life.  
And don’t try anything stupid. Think about that night in November. Remember that night? I can arrange for many people to hear all about it.”

Marion faltered, uncomfortable.

“Dean, do I need to continue reading this? It gets worse and I really don’t-“

“It’s ok, Marion. You can stop,” he whispered. 

“I’m so sorry, Dean…”

“Marion, please arrange to have the locks changed and give a key to Cas for me, ‘kay?”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Thank you, Marion.” He shut off his phone and slipped into a far away stare. The fight with Lisa right before was up there on the ugly scale. 

“I WILL NOT choose between the two of you. We’ve had this conversation too many fucking times, Lisa! You knew this was part of the deal!” Dean stood, fists clenched, teeth gritting to the point he thought they’d spark.

“Some ‘deal’ this turned out to be! I get to hear you fuck your boyfriend whenever you don’t like something I say to you!” Lisa retorted, her black hair flying behind her wildly.

“Don’t you dare bring him into this!”

“BRING him into this? He’s never OUT of this! He’s always there, Dean! That’s the fucking problem! I’m not your fucking cover just because you can’t admit to the world you like men!” she shrieked.

Dean left for New York the next morning to kick off his his circuit around the city with a signing and then play seven venues in seven days. His tour was nicknamed the Seven Deadly Sins. Fuck her. He’ll deal with her insecurities when he gets back to London.

A tall, gangly kid nervously approached Dean, snapping him out of his spiraling head trip.

“Um, Mr. Winchester? Um…the manager wanted me to tell you we’re opening the doors in ten minutes, so you need to um, finish?” 

Dean took a look at the kid and almost laughed out loud at how scared shitless the kid was. Instead he threw on his sympathetic face that he saved for those he pitied.

“No problem, um – “

:”Garth.”

“Yeah, party on, Garth,” Dean smiled and threw horns.

“You too, man!” The exchange seemed to make Garth’s life. It was a story for the grandkids, indeed.

Dean grabbed a CD and got back to work. 

He still had quite a bit to go when the crowd moved in, so he resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to take a bunch of these things back to his hotel and finish them there and have Gabe run them back to the store.

The crowd was always the same from one place to another. Tons of kids like Garth, afraid to speak lest they shit themselves, or a bunch of Lolitas, barely out of pigtails looking to lose their virginity, or wait a minute. 

About a dozen people down the line was a shock of blue-streaked hair. Well, that was an attention-grabber.

And the head it was attached to – dark eyes, dark lips, belonging to a body with a slim build, fishnets, and Doc Martens. Well isn’t this refreshing, he thought.

When blue hair approached his table, she made direct eye contact. Almost daring Dean to look away.

She handed him an oversized magazine. He flipped it over and it was his face staring back at him. It was the Interview magazine that Cas had been commissioned to do a painting of him for. It was possibly the best portrait the painter had done to date.

She smiled. “I’d love to see the original painting. It’s gotta be better than seeing the print of it, right? Where is it?”

Dean laughed and grabbed a sharpie. He always enjoyed seeing what people brought him to sign and this was the first time someone had brought this. It was from several years back and was considered to be a collector’s item. It actually got his mind off his phone call with Marion for a minute. Until he had to answer Rain’s question. 

“It’s at my house in London, actually.” My now empty house in London, he thought. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” As Rain opened her mouth to answer, a security aide ran over.

“No personalizations, just sign and go, we’ve got hundreds more behind you.” Rain was stunned and at a loss for words.

Dean signed his trademark DW on the magazine. The aide grabbed it, shoved it back at Rain and gestured for her to move. 

Rain obliged, but did turn back to see Dean watching her leave, much to the chagrin of the groupie shoving her cleavage in his face.

Present, New York

Dean took another swig of Johnny Walker and exhaled.

“The signing,” he murmured.

“What about it?” Rain asked.

“It was a very hard day for me. And uh, well, seeing you, meeting you, really helped me.”

“How? I didn’t even get to tell you my name because that asshole security guard made me move.”

“Yeah, I know. Well, I had gotten some news a little bit before the signing started and I was really not doing well with it. And then I saw you. You were so different than the others, you know? You have confidence, no hero worship shit. Just you. And it made me feel good about myself.”

“Great, glad to hear it. But what does that have to do with anything else? You’re attached.”

“That’s where I lied to you, darlin’. Lisa left me the morning of the signing.”

“What?? Well how the hell doesn’t the world know about it? That makes no sense.”

“I think it’s her backup plan. She’s not 100% sold on the idea yet, so she doesn’t want to look stupid. So she can come back and not have to worry about saving face, you know?”

“I get it but it’s disgusting, Dean. So now with this little gem you’ve bestowed upon me, the other shit makes sense now. I’m a revenge fuck. Or, rather, WOULD BE revenge fuck.”  
Rain chugged down the rest of her Johnny. She looked back up at Dean and he couldn’t tell if the tears in her eyes were from the pain he just caused her or from the Johnny.

“Rain, that’s not what I intended to…”

“Bullshit!” she yelled. “How fucking stupid do you think I am, Winchester?”

Dean scooted over to her on the sectional, debating if he should take her hands. He reached over but the look Rain gave him made him rethink that gesture.

"I didn’t seek you, or anyone out, to get ‘revenge’. I was, and please forgive the chick flick moment, drawn to you. That’s why when I saw you at my show earlier tonight I was genuinely happy to see you.”

“Yeah, and I felt how genuinely happy you were up against my leg during that little performance we gave the paparazzi outside the hotel here.”

Dean looked down and found the label on his drink incredibly interesting.

“What the fuck, Dean?”

“I wanted to kiss you. And yes, I did it in a way that was meant to hurt Lisa too. And for that, I’m sorry.” He faced her again and made eye contact. Green boring into her brown.   
“When I thought of kissing you, it was because I, well, fuck! It’s because I wanted to kiss you. But then of course I thought of Lisa. Fucking her new man. And I wanted her to feel something , even a fraction of what she did to me.”

Rain swiped the backs of her hands across her eyes, smearing her eyeliner and really not giving two shits.

“You do realize that makes me feel better not, right?” 

“I know, sweetheart. And I’m sorry." 

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed. Dean softly asked, "Can I ask you to please answer your own question?”

“What do you mean?”

“You wanted to know why you were with me. So tell me – as far as you knew, I was still with Lisa. Why would you go with me here?”

“Because you asked, dumbass. You have a reputation of being one of the few faithful musicians in the world. Your relationship with Lisa was something that women dream of but never get. I thought you really just wanted to hang. Stupid me, huh.”

“Don’t say that, Rain. I was wrong. Wait, let me rephrase that. What I did was right. How I did it was wrong. Kissing you was something I wanted to do from the minute I saw you.   
Doing it out there to get a rise out of people was wrong and for that I apologize. But I won’t apologize for wanting you.”

Rain laughed humorlessly. “You don’t want me, Dean. You want Lisa back.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean said. 

“If you didn’t care you wouldn’t go out of your way to hurt her.” 

“Yes, I want to hurt her. But I don’t want to hurt you. You have nothing to do with this and I dragged you into this. I’m a fucking moron,” he said.

He’s a fucking single guy now. Is it wrong to want someone and to want to exact painful emotional revenge on your ex? Apparently so. 

“No, I’m the fucking moron for falling for this shit. Thinking someone like you could possibly want to hang with me just because and not because you want to make your ex-girlfriend cry.”

Rain stood up and grabbed her bag from the coffee table. 

“Dean, it’s been real. Real what, I’m not sure, but it’s been real, that’s for damn sure.” She walked over to the door and grabbed the handle.

“Rain! “ he ran over to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

She turned around, tears falling freely. 

“You’re an asshole, Winchester,” she said softly. 

“Can we try this all over again? The right way this time?” 

She looked into his eyes. Why she continued to do that knowing the effect they had on her was beyond her, but she did it again anyway. 

“That all depends on how honest you want to be with me. About everything.”

Memories of Cas’ sexed-mussed hair flashed through his mind for a moment.

Dean swallowed and leaned closer. 

“I can do that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Rain continue to try to understand each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crow, wow! You're still reading?? I'm honored!! THANK YOU! Not sure I'm too proud of this chapter, but it is laying foundations for the rest of the story, so it needed to be posted.
> 
> Again, all errors are mine, kudos keep me going, and I appreciate each and every one of ya'll!

Dean led Rain back over to the sectional. She sat in the corner and he sat next to her, their knees gently touching.

“What do you want to know?” he asked. He noted how defeated her posture was; her sloped shoulders, chin practically on her chest. Quite the opposite of the spitfire that threatened to rip him a new asshole. He must’ve really fucked this one up.

She took a deep breath and raised her head to meet his gaze. “I want to know why I’m here,” she said, her moxy slowly returning, “I want to know what you expect from me.”

“I told you that already.”

“No. You gave me an answer, but not the truth.”

Dean sighed and pinched his nose again. Apparently that’s a tell of his that he’s starting to stress. GOOD, she thought.

He shifted uncomfortably on the seat and took one of her hands into both of his. “Look. I explained to you that Lisa left me the day of the signing. And then I saw you. Well there’s more that I was trying not to say because well, it just sounds fucking corny. But apparently it needs to be said. Seeing you again tonight was like a sign to me. Like I was supposed to get to know you for some reason, ok?”

“You’re fucking serious.” He dropped her hand and shook his head.

“That’s why I didn’t want to fucking say it.”

“What do you expect me to say, Dean? Oh, we were meant to be! Take me away to your palace in England and we’ll live together forever gardening and driving on the wrong side of the road!”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he muttered. He shifted away from her. Dean could dish it out. Oh could he dish it out. But he also knew when to cut the shit, unlike some people. She immediately regretted opening her mouth and scooted closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Dean, I’m sorry. It’s a horrible defense mechanism I have – if it’s inappropriate, you can guarantee I will say it and at the worst time imaginable. I asked you a question and I’m not letting you answer it.”

He turned to her and took her hand from his shoulder. “Gonna let me finish now?” he smirked.

“Gonna try,” she smiled back.

“To answer your question – yes. I felt like there was a connection that I wanted to explore. Had Lisa not left me would I still be here with you? No. Honestly I wouldn’t have noticed you. Lisa leaving me was like someone taking a fucking blindfold off me”

“You’ve never cheated on her? Ever?” Rain asked incredulously.

He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes with conviction. “I never, ever slept with another woman while I was with Lisa.”

 

_**Three Years Earlier, London** _

Cas was writhing and moaning underneath Dean as he rocked into him slowly. The world was shrunken down to just the two of them. Dean couldn’t think of anything other than Cas; the sight of him, the taste of him…until Lisa barged into their bedroom and shrieked. Dean rolled off of Cas, begging her to understand.

“I fucking KNEW IT,” Lisa cried. “You fucking assholes! I knew it! And in our bed?!? Oh, you just fucking wait until I’m done with you, Dean! The whole world is gonna har about this, I'll make it my fucking mission in life, so help me!” She slammed the door shut behind her and ran down the stairs.

Dean looked down at Cas, unable to form a coherent thought. Cas reached up and stroked the side of Dean’s face with the back of his hand. “Go,” Cas whispered. Dean leaned down and kissed him briefly and touched his forehead to Cas’.

He then got out of bed and threw on his boxer briefs while Cas got up and slowly began to dress. Dean ran down the stairs, following the sounds of her sobs into the living room. He found her sitting on the couch, her head in her hands. Dean gingerly reached out to stroke her hair and she recoiled as if he were acid.

“Don’t you fucking touch me, you son of a bitch!” she grit through her teeth.

He sat down on the couch across from her. The room didn’t seem real to him. He and Lisa made their home there for the past two years and the room seemed alien. As if he didn’t belong there. They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

Lisa looked up at Dean; the man she loved. The man that she thought loved her just as much. “How long, Dean?” she asked. Her voice sounded like chicken wire holding back a tornado.

He stared down at the floor.

“I asked you a fucking question,” she hissed.

“How long, what, Lisa?” he sighed.

“How long have you been fucking him?” she spat. He looked up at her.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does! I want to know how long I’ve been a fucking idiot!”

”Lisa, look,” he said and reached over to take one of her hands. She pulled away, of course. “Things with Cas and me, they’re fucking complicated.”

“Doesn’t seem too complicated to me, Dean. You were fucking him. What’s so complicated? Unless you want to tell me something like you lost a bet or you were drunk, or high…there’s nothing that you can say that can explain away the fact that you had your dick up Cas in our bed and as far as I knew, you and I were together. And you were straight. So basically the past two years of my life were a bunch of bullshit! You betrayed me in ways I can’t even fucking describe!”

The more Lisa spoke, the more Dean felt off-kilter. Like an out of body experience. This couldn’t possibly be happening. He wasn’t even hearing anything she was saying at this point. All he could think of is how the fuck Cas was going to get out of this house without Lisa killing him first. How was he going to get her to forgive him. He can’t lose his life with her. And he can’t lose Cas. Plain and simple.

“Lisa, babe. We can make this work.”

_**Present, New York City** _

"Rain, I never slept with another woman while I was with Lisa," Dean repeated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for some backstories! Thank you for sticking around!!

**_London, 3 Years Earlier_ **

Cas stood at the dining room table, packing some tubes of acrylic, a couple of cold press Bristol boards, some brushes, a disposable palette and bottled water into his ‘doodle bag’, which was a very used, very loved, paint-stained duffle bag that he toted over to Covent Garden almost daily.  It was just a few steps away from his modest home which he shared with his girlfriend of three years, Meg Masters.

He loved going to Covent Garden in the early mornings to watch the vendors set up their tables.  He had done many a painting set up there, often sitting on a folded towel on top of the cobblestone, never tiring of the crisp, clipped English accents buzzing around the young man with the messy dark brown hair.

Cas took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  It still didn’t seem real to him.  He and Meg had come over to London two years ago and it still feels like a dream to him.

Meg had initially suggested London just as a nice change of pace from the Type A neuroses that was New York City.  What wound up happening was Cas grasping and clawing for London like a drowning man to a life preserver.

Cas grew up in a small town in northeastern New Jersey with relatively easy access to Manhattan.  He spent a good deal of his high school years skipping classes, hopping on the PATH train and going to the Village or Soho, absorbing galleries and personalities.

He was inspired by humanity.  By the human condition.  Mortality.  Emotions.  He fancied himself somewhat of a professional people-watcher, knowing which were the best neighborhoods to go get a taste of the upper crust, to take a slice of the middle class pie, and to give out what he could in the Bowery. 

His paintings reflected his experiences with many of the personalities he encountered; the good, the bad, the brutal.

Brutal being a kind word for what transpired around CBGBs – an historic club which gave amazing bands such as Talking Heads, The Ramones, Blondie, and Television their starts. 

CBGBs began to take on more hardcore, raw punk bands and Cas was quite taken with the crowd.  These were not posers who would go from a Blondie show and then run over to Saks and be trendy.  No, these people were professional miserable.  They were aggressive, unclean, uncouth, and fascinating as all shit.

Cas managed to charm Hilly, the owner of CBGBs into letting him have a corner just to paint the night away.  His little perch left him just a few feet away from the stage, fortunately.  He captured moments that would have otherwise never been noticed.  A couple’s first kiss.  A teen’s bloody nose from a pogo session gone wrong. 

One night a band called, ‘KAZ-2Y5’ got onstage. It was a four piece: a drummer with a solitary bass drum, a snare drum and a high hat, a guitarist, a bassist, and holy shit, the singer. 

Cas put down his brush to watch them set up. The singer was lean and muscular.  Impressive arms being showcased by a tight black tank top, leather pants tucked into calf-high Doc Martens, unlaced, of course.

Cas’ eyes traveled back up and looked at the singer’s face.   Which happened to be looking back.  Oh shit.  The singer ran a hand through his short, light brown hair and gave a small smirk.  Cas reciprocated with a smile and a nod.

It took all of five minutes to set up their gear and without any pomp and circumstance, launched right into a song called, “Yellow Eyed Demon.”  The singer growled, he howled, he screamed to the point Cas was certain the man’s vocal cords were shredded. And then at the drop of a hat he was singing, almost whispering. It was intoxicating.   
  
Cas wanted to take every sound, every movement and cram it onto his board.  Before he realized, the set was finished and another band jumped up to the stage to set up.    
  
As he was putting the finishing touches on the piece, a shadow blocked his light.  Cas looked up and saw the singer, drenched in sweat and smiling shyly.

“I’m Dean.  Let’s get a drink.”

Cas remembered that pivotal moment in his and Dean's life fondly as he began to prep his board and aimed at an antiques vendor setting up near the Oakley shop.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a nice long break to get the creative juices flowing...hope you like the results! Kudos make me happy!

_**London, Present Day** _

You wanted a piece of Castiel Novak – be it a painting, an interview,or the right time of day, you had to go through Meg Masters. Unless, of course, you’re Dean Winchester. But that’s for another time.

Meg is a sultry, no bullshit, ‘I can make you come in your pants just with the sound of my voice’ kind of gal. Her long dark hair, petite five foot four frame and creamy white skin give her a deceptively innocent appearance. She can sweet talk the pants off an angel. And probably has. Calendars, events, publicity, exhibits, you name it – she controls it. To think when Cas first met her, she was half naked on some guy’s lap while the guy stuck some freshly cooked heroin into her arm.

_**New York City, 2004** _

Castiel Novak was in the midst of capturing some comedians performing in the fountain in Washington Square Park. The aroma of weed wafted through the air, Cas breathing it in, thankful for the free contact high. He continued to paint the performers, drawing a small crowd around him and his easel. But he was so consumed by his task at hand, he was completely oblivious to the admirers.

It’s part of what made Castiel so humble. It was never about impressing others. He only cared about impressing himself. His art was truly for art’s sake. And his.

Two guys that looked as if they stepped out of an extremely bad surfer movie seemed particularly captivated with Cas’ work. They lingered on long after the crowd disbursed. Both were wearing shorts with flip flops, as if they called each other that morning to agree on a matching outfit. The only difference between the two was one was blond, the other brunette.

The two men were both young, early twenties, and most likely either spoiled college students from NYU or losers from the other side of the Hudson trying to score some weed. The blond looked over Cas’ shoulder. “Dude – you like go to school for that shit? Fucking awesome!”

Cas looked back, smiled uncomfortably in acknowledgement, and decided mixing some pigments on his board would be a welcome distraction right about now. The brunette decided to stand in front of Cas. “Hey, you so need to come do some shit at our buddy’s place. It’s not far from here – you could paint some great shit there, no fucking kidding, dude!”

Cas looked up from his easel, tilted his head to the side and scrunched his brow in confusion. “But I’m doing just fine here. I haven’t finished painting these guys yet,” he said, pointing towards the comedians with his paintbrush.

“Well, we were gonna go have some fun at our friend’s place and then go see KAZ2Y5 over at CB’s – fucking awesome band. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Well the last time Cas went to CBGB’s, he saw said band, and wound up having a drink or three with the lead singer, Dean, who appeared to have issues admitting he was gay. Or at the very least bi. Maybe he’d get to have a drink with him again and try to pry the confession out of him. Yup, plans for the evening have changed.

Cas put his brush down. “You know what? That sounds cool. Let me clean up here and I’ll go with you guys. I’m Castiel, by the way. You can call me Cas.”

“Dylan,” the blond said, “And this is Bruce,” he said, pointing to the brunette. The three men walked to St. Mark’s Place, a punk haven of sorts.

From the staple stores like Trash and Vaudeville to St. Mark’s Comics, the neighborhood was distinctly New York. It attracted the students of nearby NYU, the tourists stumbling upon it accidentally while trying to cut to Broadway, and those that defined it – the individuals, the rule-breakers, the castaways, and those who consciously decided to throw their middle finger up at yuppiedom.

As Cas absorbed his surroundings, noting the club, ‘Coney Island High’ and the street vendors selling studded leather wrist cuffs, he felt something akin to belonging. Very much the feeling he has when he’s at CBGB’s.

A current charged through him whenever he thought about CBGB’s, Dean, and knowing he was about to be exposed to a whole new ilk of people that will inspire him to paint, to create, and to explore humanity.

They turn the corner and walk towards a store called ‘Love Saves the Day.’ They enter the door next to it and climb up two flights of the three story walkup.

Dylan takes out a key and opens the door. A stale, musty smell wafts out into the hallway as the door is pushed open. Curiosity overruled good judgement and Cas allowed himself to be led inside.

There were already a couple of guys inside sitting on a threadbare couch that might have been orange at one point in time. About thirty years earlier.

The two on the couch were clearly impaired, one passing a barely there joint to the other. Bruce noted the activity and strode over to the couch and got in the faces of the two stoners.

“Dude! I told you to save the shit for when we got back! What the fuck, man?”

The stoner on the right started laughing. A high pitched laugh that sounded more likely to come from a farm animal than a human, Cas thought. He began to feel the weight of his bag of art supplies and breakdown easel, so he shifted the strap.

“Dude – Meg brought it here. Your shit is safe…” the other stoner mumbled. He then looked up and notice Cas for the first time. “Who the fuck is this?”

“I’m Castiel,” he said, completely unsure if he’s supposed to shake hands, do a bro hug, wave, or just fucking leave.

“Casty-wha? What the fuck kind of name is that?” the hyena stoner asked.

“Casti-EL” Castiel repeated, annoyance creeping in and deciding that just fucking leaving and going on his own to see Dean, er KAZ2Y5, would be the best bet at this point.

“Pete, shut the fuck up,” Dylan said and turned to Cas. “Don’t mind him. He’s an asshole. Doesn’t even fucking live here.”

“Uh huh,” Cas said, “Um, are we going to go to the show?”

“All in good time, my man!” Dylan laughed. “Gotta pretty up first, right? Let’s go in the other room and see what’s cooking!” Dylan puts his hand on Cas’ back and directs him to a bedroom. And what he sees is a moment that becomes one of Cas’ most profound, expensive paintings in his career.

A girl, really a woman, mousy in stature, was completely naked. She was sitting atop a man, also completely naked, her body gyrating rhythmically as he fucked up into her. Her head thrown back, she moaned deeply. As Castiel took in the entire scene, he noticed the moan most likely wasn’t caused by sex. It was the hypodermic needle with a brown liquid still hanging out of her arm, the man gently pushing the contents into her vein.

Dylan and Bruce asked Castiel if he wanted to join in. He wasn’t sure if they meant the girl or the drugs. Either one of those options was unsettling, to say the least. Meg brought her head back down, opened her eyes and saw Castiel. She snaked her arm down to her slit and began to touch herself, eyes never leaving his. Bruce closed the door to the bedroom.

_**London, Present Day** _

Meg looked up at the wall of her dining room in the home she shared with Cas. A large portrait of her in a bed, pale, emaciated, and near death hung on the stark white wall. Cas painted it while she recovered after her third and last heroin overdose. The day she vowed to get sober. Whenever she looked at that painting it reminded her of how tenuous living can be. One wrong decision and the dominos fall accordingly.

Thank fuck for Cas. Thank fuck they love each other enough to let each other love other people.


End file.
